"I don't drink." "Tea's not alcoholic." Gin paused, gaping at the drink. "It's not?" Ochre collapsed on her knees, reaching forwards to yank Gin's shoulders and shake her like a maraca. "/What do you mean 'it's not'/?" Or: Gin doesn't know how to live. Lucky for her, a vigilante bangs down her door, drags her by the teeth, and /shows/ her.